


Stick

by write_your_way_out



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 20:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11676921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write_your_way_out/pseuds/write_your_way_out
Summary: On his 29th birthday, Zeke recalls an incident that left a bigger mark on his childhood than he would ever expect.





	Stick

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to my two murderous warrior children. This is AUish, with the timeline being a bit distorted. There are also major spoilers for the Manga, so beware!

He met the future warrior one time. 

He was….he must’ve been about ten. No, eleven. It was his birthday, after all. 

Grisha took Zeke by the hand, dragging him through the streets. “There’s someone I want you to meet," was all he said. Of course. What else would he expect from his father? His birthday was just another day. No presents. Least of all a pony.

They stopped in front of a small cottage. It struck Zeke as more of a shack, walls bent in at an angle, roof lopsided. The entire residence looked like it had been caught on the wrong side of a tornado. The wood panels were covered in dirt and grime. The front porch was more of a concrete block. There weren't any steps. Like a cliff, it suddenly dropped away to the ground beneath. It wasn’t even fenced in. 

Zeke had to scramble onto it, kicking his legs and clawing. The pads of his fingertips turned red and raw. “Why are we here?” He asked. He’d never seen a home that looked quite like this. It didn’t feel like a house, it felt like the last place someone would stop before a cemetery. 

“I want to introduce you to someone. His birthday is today, too.”

So Grisha did remember. Zeke frowned. It seemed like Grisha cared more about the other kid’s birthday than his own son’s. The idea didn’t endear Zeke to whoever was beyond the rickety wall. 

He pushed the door open. The inside of the house was in no better than the exterior. There were no windows. The only light came from a few holes in the roof and candles. A woman sat in a rocking chair, half asleep. 

On the floor, a toddler, maybe two years old, played with a twig as if it were a toy. He had small wisps of blond hair and large cheeks that puffed out like a chipmunk stuffing its face with acorns. For a moment, he didn’t notice either of the visitors. 

Grisha stepped forward, gently tapping the woman on the shoulder. She jolted awake, a sleepy smile on her face. They exchanged hushed words, so low that Zeke couldn’t hear. He did manage to catch a name though. Braun. Whether it was a first or last name, he wouldn’t know for years.

Something touched his ankle. Zeke pulled away, heart jumping. Was is a bug? An animal? He wouldn’t doubt it in a house like this. 

No. It was just the boy. He still couldn’t form words, but he grinned like a maniac, poking Zeke’s leg with his stick. “Ow!” Zeke jumped back, holding the wound. It hadn’t broken the skin, but it certainly didn’t feel pleasant. 

The boy stabbed him again. And again. And again. Each time, Zeke tried to move away, but the toddler followed him like it was a deranged game of follow the leader. 

Zeke tried to stare him down. The toddler didn’t seem to care about the threatening gaze. He threw the stick into Zeke’s face. “Hey!”

The woman looked up. “He wants you to take it, dear.” She said. “It’s a gift. A birthday present.”

Zeke rubbed his head. Who would give someone a stick? If he really wanted one, he could pick one up on the walk home. Still, if it meant he didn’t have to endure any more toddler abuse, he would gladly accept it. He bent down and held out his hand, palm up. 

The toddler placed the bark in his hand and crawled back. 

It was the only present Zeke received that year. 

*******

Twenty years later, Zeke found the same toddler, all grown-up, sitting on the same haphazard porch. They were both tall enough now that their feet touched the ground. The porch was less of a cliff now, and more of a step. Zeke hadn’t known for sure he would Reiner Braun here. It was a lucky guess. But seeing him here - brown military uniform, red armband on his bicep, staring off into the distance like he was looking for answers to a question he hadn’t asked - Zeke decided he would have been out of place anywhere else. 

Reiner barely moved when Zeke sat next to him. “It’s your big two-one,” Zeke said.

“And your….what? Your twenty-ninth?” 

“Don’t make me feel old. I’m still your superior.” Zeke laughed. Reiner snorted but didn’t respond. Something was clearly on his mind. 

Years ago, Reiner set out with three others to begin the assault of Wall Maria. He’d spent years among the walled citizens. Out of the group that left, he was the only one to return alive. He’d returned different from the tiny, spunky-but-non-threatening kid that had left. He was certainly different from the toddler who kept stabbing him years ago.

“Here,” Zeke tossed Reiner a small package. 

Reiner looked at it, raised an eyebrow, and laughed. “I don’t get it.”

Zeke shook his head, a smile flickering across his lips. “You’d be too young to remember.” In Reiner’s hands was an old, worn piece of wood, brittle and dry. A white ribbon was slapped onto one side like a birthday present. A few pieces had chipped off over the years and the color faded with age, but the stick was still very much the same. “But I’ll never forget.”


End file.
